Only girl Kayaker to Finish AWS Paddlesport, Twice!

Potomac River, June 20-25_As Trynn Diesel descended into her sea-kayak from Anacostia Park, a herd of reporters and cameramen rushed to have a quick interview with her. "Will you finish the expedition?", "Are you nuts?", "What the hell?", "Who are you trying to prove?" "Why!?" She broke out a Shit towne song, "the weavers live up the street from me. the crackheads, they live down the street from me the tall grass makes it hard to see beyond my property hey man, this is criminal...". Hooray for randomness.

No seriously, so I'm back from my sea-kayaking expedition, and I got to thinking--WHY!? why did I put myself through the torture? Besides my monthly curse of a woman on this trip, I thought I was very fortunate that the Potomac R was quite gentle this year. Not much action; except when I damned near killed myself by paddling behind the 2-ton life buoy that was moored to the bottom -- during a tropical t-storm! The floater looked like it was torpedoing straight at me. Gabriel afterwards said I must've had a death wish. It was more like a stupid act really. At the Aqualand Marina, we landed to refill our water bladder bags. I witnessed an execution in the nicest way possible. Just like the reality show, Survivor John M. was voted off on the count that he was lagging far behind from the flock. I figured he was disrespecting Bubba's authority; thus, he must be executed. I felt so bad that we made a 68-year-old man cried. The decision was prudent though. There was no telling if we had hit three to four feet waves the next day or run into another tropical summer storm (like last summer), that we would lose someone. At any rate, the guilt is still lingering on to me cuz from that archaic point, the river was silky smooth and quiet, and John M. would've made it. Then again, we never knew that the water was so forgiving.

My favorite camp site was Chapman's Forest. I must say, I was spoiled at nature's wealth. Thank you Governor Glendening for saving Chapman's beautiful wonders. At Douglas's Point, Jon and I cooked spagetti with tofu sausages (from MOM's organic food store) for eight hunger paddlers. I spent half an hour looking for shark teeth, and I found seven fossilized bony appendages. I'm making necklaces out of them now. Lower Cedar Point had an unwelcoming giant dumpster, but Bubba insisted that we stay there for the night. At that time, I was in a shitty mood. The dinner made by the so-call ex-food critic trained from France was the worse piece of crap that entered my mouth. I put so much salt in my bowl of tasteless lentels and beans as I had ever put before. To hell with health, I had to eat the lentels full of salt grains. Then, out of the setting sun came a hot dude on a jetski. Thank heavens for fine-abbed men! His Kawasaki jet-ski needed maintenance, so he used Jim's cell to call base for assistance. Help never came, so he chatted with us for awhile and decided to fix the motor himself. The engine roared a bit, but it was moving very slowly. He waved goodbye, and that's the end of that. I almost had tears in my eyes (ha! yeah right). They destroyed my tower at St. Clement's Island. I'm no longer queen of the island like last year. I had to set my tent with the hypocritical beings on the low grounds. Captain Jack Russel's old skipjack was such a welcoming view. I had crab cakes and three Bud Lites. I found my favorite hidden spot among the boulders reading my book, Atlas Shrugged, and enjoying the view of the nesting ospreys. I found myself watching the stars with another can of beer. I don't recall when I fell asleep on the deck of the ship, but I remembered that I had identified several constellations and counted a dozen shooting stars. Then I got to thinking. Gosh, I am lonely and pathetic. I knew that thinking never leads to any good, so I drank my last sip of beer and passed out. That was the last night of our expedition.

There were no ticks drilling my bottocks, thank goodness. There were no big storms in our way. Though, I kinda missed the action. This trip overall was a spiritual journey for me. I exorcised a demon or two within me. I have to remind myself that shits happen. Mistakes are made and we learn from them. We can't make others love and understand us until we learn to love ourselves. (Geesh! those bazooka gum messages are catching on to me) Anyhow, catch me on the next stride of life.

Oh yeah, if you have furnitures for me. Drop me an e-message, and I'll evaluate and take the give-aways from ya. Tootles.